


Hold Them Close, Hold Them Near

by Dragonie



Series: Better Days Coming [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Attempt at Humor, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Post-Game(s), Sappy as All Goddamn, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 17:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11696826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonie/pseuds/Dragonie
Summary: After all that's occurred since she thawed out in that Vault - Kellogg, Father, the Institute - Marisol Delgado has no idea how she's supposed to just pick up with a synth son as if nothing ever happened, but someone needs to take care of him and she's damn well going to try.Written for the August Month of Fanfiction Challenge, Day 3: "Family"





	Hold Them Close, Hold Them Near

                What do you _do_ with a precocious synth copy of your original son? Especially when he has no idea that you’re anything other than his perfectly ordinary mother, and has ten years worth of fake bonding memories when you have none? And now you’re expected to act like an ordinary mother to an ordinary ten-year-old, as if there were _nothing weird about this situation at all_?

                That was the question facing Marisol Delgado, General of the Minutemen, when Shaun, her son (adopted son? Did this count as an adoption? Even though he thought she’d raised him, all this time?), asked her if she could take a day off to spend with him, if they could do something fun together, as a family; and it might be strange, but he had no idea of any of that, and how could she say no?

                Finding the time was no small task itself – the Commonwealth had been in quite an uproar since the Institute fell and McDonough was unmasked, and she had her hands full with quelling panic and convincing settlements to house the surviving synths and scientists – but there were enough Minutemen, now, that she could deputise, and damn it, if she was seriously going to do this, she was going to do it _right_.

                Getting Preston to take a break too had been harder still, but Shaun liked him, and if they were going to be doing things as a _family_ , then she wanted him to be there.

                The next question was what to _do_. She was still just discovering what he liked; which, honestly, made her feel a bit ashamed, as a mother. To be fair, though, her last memories of him were as a literal infant, and she didn’t much like the idea of drawing on his… _older self_ for inspiration. _This_ Shaun could do far better than that.

 

* * *

 

                “So, what did you like to do as a kid, Preston?” she asked. “I want to take him somewhere special, but this wasteland? Not exactly child-friendly.”

                “As a kid?” Preston shrugged. “I spent most of my time working on my parents’ farm. Used to play ‘Minutemen and Raiders’ with my siblings when we got a break from the chores, but I guess Shaun has the real thing right here.” He laughed, and gestured at the Castle around them, its courtyard a hive of militiamen, medics, caravaneers. “Why not ask the others? I’m sure some of them must’ve had pretty exciting childhoods.”

 

* * *

 

                “As a kid?” MacCready’s eyes gleamed as he cleaned his rifle. “Oh man, you what I loved? We’d get a bunch of us, and we’d go into the tunnels and shoot molerats. Nice change from all the fungus.” He grinned, showing cracked and browning teeth. “Hey, I can teach Shaun to shoot, if you want. Never too early to learn.”

                “Uh… thanks, MacCready.” Mari replied, doing her best to seem polite. “I’ll… keep that in mind.”

 

* * *

 

 

                “As a lad?” Old Longfellow rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Would’ve been Shaun’s age when I bagged m’ first Radstag.” A look of nostalgic pride passed across his craggy face. “Nothin’ like a good hunt to turn a boy into a man. Best teach him how to skin ‘em and gut ‘em early; no skill more useful for a boy to learn, I always say.”

                “…Thanks, Longfellow.” She tried to look grateful. It didn’t exactly work. “I’m just gonna… not do that, if you don’t mind.”

 

* * *

 

                “You know what the kid’d really love?” Cait thrust a finger at Mari, a big grin on her freckly face.

                “Yeah?”

                “Take ‘im out with ya on a mission. Let ‘im see his mam kickin’ some serious raider ass. I know _I_ like that.”

                Mari thanked her, and privately wondered if anyone in this wasteland had ever heard the words ‘age-appropriate’.

 

* * *

 

                “Sorry, Blue,” Piper called over her shoulder, furiously typing. “Can’t help you there. Presses’ve been running hot since you exposed McDonough.” The clickety-clack of her fingers paused for a second. “When Nat got lonely after our parents passed, I gave her a corner of the paper for her own, let her write on whatever she wanted.” She shrugged apologetically. “Wish I could be more help. Ask me when things die down, maybe.” She turned back to her computer, and the clicking resumed, even more urgent than before. Mari decided to back away and leave her to it.

 

* * *

 

                And so it went. Curie had an entire spreadsheet full of pre-war data on Enriching Activities for Children in her head but no more knowledge of the wasteland than Mari herself, Deacon seemed pathologically unable to give a straight answer to anything, and Nick wracked his metal brains as best he could but came up empty in the end. Ada hadn’t the slightest clue about children, Strong was… out of the question, and Hancock’s ideas, while undeniably fun-sounding, were perhaps a bit too reckless for Marisol’s tastes. Danse glared at her suspiciously for asking about a _synth_ , of all things, and launched into a litany of Proscribed Leisure Activities for a Brotherhood Squire before she gave up in disgust. Finally, she came across Codsworth floating around the ruins of Sanctuary in his endless search for some edible tea leaves.

                “Every boy should love a trip to Nuka-World, mum. Or so my advertising module suggests, at any rate.” He chuckled at what she assumed was his little joke. “Mister Garvey tells me you’ve restored the power and cleared out those awful raiders from the place. Why not take young Shaun for a spin on some of the rides?”

                “You know what, Codsworth?” Mari smiled, and patted the side of his metallic head. “That’s… actually an idea. Thanks!”

                “Delighted to help, mum!” The steel lenses of Codsworth’s eyes expanded in what she had come to recognise as his ‘happy’ expression.

                “How about we make a day of it? You, me, Preston, and Shaun?”

                “…Me, mum?” He sounded surprised.

                “Of course, Codsworth.” She grabbed his hand – the grasping one, not the buzzsaw or the flamethrower, she was careful of that – soothingly. “You’re part of the family; don’t ever forget that.”

                She knew he had no tear ducts, or even, strictly speaking, eyeballs, but damned if he didn’t look like he was about to start crying then and there.

 

* * *

 

                The day of the outing came, and the four of them stood (well, in Codsworth’s case, hovered) in the Nuka-World monorail station, looking slightly awkward. Mari had ditched her Minuteman blues in favour of her beloved Atom Cats jacket and a snazzy beret. Codsworth was clutching a well-stocked picnic basket in his mechanical claws. Preston looked very incongruous in a t-shirt and jeans, and Shaun was in a peppy mood, surveying the monorail tracks with interest.

                (Mechanics. She knew he was interested in mechanics, always taking apart machines and putting them back together. A trait from the original Shaun, perhaps? A legacy of his Institute “upbringing”? Or was there some part deep within him that saw a kinship with those gears and wires? She’d have to ask Sturges if Shaun could help him in his workshop while she was busy; maybe the boy would like that.)

                The moment they left the station’s doors, Shaun rushed ahead, excited, looking for all the world like a normal, ten-year-old boy.

                “Careful,” Preston chuckled, looking fondly at the synth-child. “Don’t get too far ahead.”

                Mari smiled at her lover. It was an honestly _colossal_ relief to her that he was quite fond of children, synth or no, and had no problem being Shaun’s… stepfather, or whatever he was.

                “This is Nuka-World?” Shaun took in the crumbling façade, the chipped paint, the trash-strewn streets. “I kind of thought there’d be more people.”

                “Oh, but Master Shaun,” Codsworth hurriedly supplied, “there’s someone now, see!”

                A scowling trader strode out of the gates, driving a laden Brahmiluff. He cleared his throat noisily and spat into a bush.

                “Erm…” Codsworth continued. “Well, I’m sure there will be more… _savoury_ folks inside!”

                His ‘unyielding optimism’ subroutines in full swing, Codsworth floated past the gate, followed by a giggling Shaun. The boy had always taken a shine to the robot butler; perhaps the memory of him was still there, in some deep cranny of the original Shaun’s mind. Preston looked uncertainly at Mari, took her hand in his.

                “You sure about this? I know it can’t be easy on you, after everything.”

                Mari looked into those kind eyes – her dear Preston, always worrying about her, always making sure she was okay – and smiled, as strong as she could.

                “Yeah,” she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I took on this job, didn’t it? I’m gonna do it _right_.”

 

* * *

 

 

                The park, at least, was livelier within the walls of Nuka-Town, USA. The market had flourished since the raiders had been cleared out, doing a brisk business in meat and hides from the park’s unique wildlife. Strings of lights were draped around the central bazaar, the chatter of hagglers and calls of merchants and lowing of Brahmin filling the air. N.I.R.A. wandered through the crowds in a slow, plodding pace, metal frame creaking with every step. Shaun surveyed the park with interest – thank God the traders had cleaned up the gore and bodies, Mari thought – taking in the blinking neon, the tame gazelles, the looming bulk of Fizztop Mountain. She held his hand – so small and warm, you’d never know he had metal for bones and wires for sinews – so he wouldn’t get lost.

                “Where shall we go first, Master Shaun?” Codsworth asked. A thoughtful expression crossed Shaun’s little face.

                “Hmm. I dunno. You’ve been here before, right, mom? What’s the funnest thing?” He looked up at Mari, love in his eyes – _c’mon, Mari, you can do this, try not to look uncomfortable, I know this is weird_ _but it isn’t_ his _fault_ – and she smiled back.

                One of the park’s signs caught her attention, and she pointed.

                “How about we start there?”

 

* * *

 

                “This is easy!” laughed Shaun as he won his fifth consecutive game of Atomic Rollers against Preston. She had to hand it to the boy, he was _good_ at it, seemed to have a keen understanding of trajectory, even if Preston was rather obviously going easy on him.

                (Something in his programming, or was the original Shaun always talented good at physics? What in there was her son, and what wasn’t?)

                “Whoa, nice going!” Preston caught Mari’s eye and winked. She grinned back, setting down the Thirst Zapper, came over to ruffle his hair as he eagerly pulled string after string of tickets from the machine.

                “Good show, sirs!” Codsworth applauded. Well, applauded in spirit, at least.

                “Can I get something, mom?” Shaun held the tickets up, his eyes shining.

                “All right,” she replied, kissed him on the top of the head, tried not to feel awkward about it. “Just, uh, no guns, okay?”

                To her immense relief, he came back toting a purple stuffed sloth, cradling it as if it were clinging to his neck.

                “What a cute little guy!” She crouched down to get a better look at the toy. Shaun nodded sagely.

                “I’m going to call him Slothmeat.”

                “Slothmeat.” Mari tried her best to keep a straight face. “Uh. Okay Mind if I ask why?”

                Shaun cocked his head at her.

                “Well, you named our dog Dogmeat, right? So I’m naming my sloth Slothmeat.”

                Mari’s poker face was being sorely tested. Behind her, she could hear Preston trying and failing to hold in his laughter.

                “He’s got you there, babe!” She turned her head to see him, shoulders shaking, a big grin on his face. It suited him, she thought. Laughter sounded good in his voice.

                “…Yeah,” she turned back to Shaun with a smile. “That’s exactly it. Good choice.” She gave Slothmeat a pat on his worn fuzzy head.

                Shaun smiled, like a little boy should, and hugged Slothmeat tighter.

 

* * *

 

 

                “That was fun!” Shaun rushed out the exit of Mad Mulligan’s Minecraft Coaster, and into the bright sunlight of Dry Rock Gulch, dragging his new toy along behind him. The others followed, with rather wobbly footsteps, in Preston's case.

                “Sorry about that,” Mari smiled apologetically at him. “He just got so excited about it, you know? I hope it wasn’t too unpleasant.”

                “No, it’s okay.” Preston waved a hand, and steadied himself on the ride’s faux-Western exterior. “Anything for our kids, right?”

                “Our” kids? Shit. Was she _blushing_? They hadn’t talked about what her taking on the responsibility of Shaun had meant for their relationship, hadn’t found the time, but maybe…

                “Well, _I_ certainly am not pleased!” Codsworth huffed as he floated by. “That ride was _clearly_ not up to International Association of Amusement Parks and Attractions safety standards! Were I you, mum, I should be lodging a stern complaint with the manager!”

                Mari opened her mouth to try to explain that there _was_ no manager (well, technically there was, but he was a disembodied head doomed to spend the rest of his days in the company of a perky fangirl and unlikely to do much about the matter), nor, indeed, a surviving regulatory body for amusement parks, or any other industry, when she was interrupted by a delighted cry from Shaun.

                “Come look, Uncle Preston!” He was pointing at an animatronic cowboy. “This one dresses just like you!”

                “Huh. How about that?” Preston wandered over to the excited child, and Mari and Codsworth followed.

                “You never told me you were a cowboy, Uncle Preston!”

                “Oh, yeah,” he chuckled. “I’ve rustled plenty of varmints in my day, but your mom here–” He threw a companionable arm across Marisol’s shoulders, pulled her close. “She’s the real sheriff in town.”

                “Wow, really?” Shaun looked up at the pair of them, wide-eyed.

                “Uh… yeah!” She put a hand on her hip and hoped the pose didn’t look _too_ silly. “We’re the, uh, rootingest, tootingest cowpokes around, pardner!” Preston stifled a snort, and she elbowed him gently in the ribs.

                “Wow,” Shaun breathed, before getting distracted by the next thing to cross his field of vision. “Hey Uncle Codsworth, that robot has a hat! But it’s not as fancy as yours. Why is that?”

                “I should think not!” Codsworth followed the boy as he wandered off. “This hat was presented to me by my mistress, your mother, herself! I doubt any fairground attractions’– ” he punctuated this with a three-eyed squint at One-Eyed Ike “–can compare to that. Why, Master Shaun, let me tell you about the time your mother and I were stranded in a hospital full of scary mutant! Quick-thinking as always, she…”

                “‘Rootingest tootingest?’” Preston murmured to her as they brought up the rear, a hint of a smirk on his face.

                “Oh, shush. You’re the one who put me on the spot, you know.”

                His arm was still on her shoulder.

                “Feeling any better about this?”

                “…Yeah. Yeah, I am.” She took a deep breath. “I think… I think I can make this work. As messed up as this whole situation is. I mean, I guess I did want a kid.”

                “That’s the spirit.” He smiled encouragingly.

                She smiled back, laid her hand on his, felt his warm fingers beneath her palm.

                “Thanks for this, Preston. It really means a lot to me.” Her eyes felt wet, and _oh no, don’t you start bawling, Mari, not in front of Codsworth or the kid_.

                “Hey.” He spoke softly, twining her fingers with his. “I’m here for you okay? Guess I’m part of the family now, huh?”

                “Ewww,” Shawn’s voice cut into the tender moment like a laserbeam through a lump of butter. “Are you two gonna start _smooching_?”

                “ _Shaun_!” scolded Codsworth. “ _Do_ be tactful, please – oh, I am so terribly sorry, mum!”

                “That’s all right, Codsworth,” Mari had to laugh at the sheer… _domesticity_ of it all, despite everything, despite all the bullshit surrounding it. “C’mon, Shaun, what’s next?”

 

* * *

 

                Night fell over the park, eventually. Looking down from the top of the Ferris wheel, it seemed as if there were more stars below than above, the park’s lights shining cheerfully like the war never happened. Shaun snoozed in his mother’s lap, Slothmeat cradled in his arms, absolutely tuckered out. It had been a long day, after all. First, they’d taken a picnic lunch up in Cappy’s Treehouse with Cito and his family, Shaun giggling over Cito’s “funny speaking”. He’d taken great interest in the Ghourillas – perhaps they reminded him of the Institute? – while Codsworth fretted all the while. Next, they’d taken a ride on the World of Refreshment, where Shaun had showed far more interest in the brief glimpses of the manufacturing plant than in the river of Quantum. The real treat for him was the Galactic Zone: Shaun had immediately taken to all the park robots – now mercifully docile – and their sleek designs (“Gets it from your side, huh?” Preston had nudged her with a laugh), and had insisted on riding the Nuka-Galaxy again and again until Preston, looking a little green around the gills, had begged him for clemency. Finally, Codsworth had suggested they cap off the trip with a relaxing spin on the Ferris wheel as dusk stretched its fingers over the park.

                Marisol stroked Shaun’s hair and wondered if synths really needed sleep, then wondered if it even mattered, anyway. She laid her own head on Preston’s shoulder, exhausted.

                “I think it went well,” Preston remarked, resting his cheek against the cloth of her beret, snaking an arm loosely around her waist. “He sure seemed like he was enjoying himself. I’d say the mission was a success, General.”

                “Thank god for that,” Mari said, exhausted. “Though it was really Codsworth who saved the day, here, with this idea.”

                “Oh, mum, you’ll make me blush – that is, if I had blood vessels!” Codsworth, hovering in the middle of the cabin, chuckled at his own joke, and she gave a little smile in response. There was silence for a minute, the little makeshift family basking in the rare moment of peace and quiet, before Marisol spoke:

                “This whole thing’s messed up, you know.” She looked into her son’s sleeping face; so calm, so unknowing of all the tragedy of it. “A cruel goddamn trick, making a boy who can’t grow up but doesn’t know it. Cruel of him, to think I could just… take a replacement, and pretend none of this ever happened.”

                Preston said nothing, but the arm around her tightened comfortingly. Codsworth’s eyestalks drooped in sorrow.

                “…But it’s not his fault, is it?” she continued. “He doesn’t know it, but I guess he’s as much a victim of… of _Father’s_ sick machinations as any of us. He didn’t deserve this, and neither did I, but here we are, and _someone’s_ gotta take care of him, and I…” She took a deep breath, steadied her nerves. “I am going to make this thing _work_ , dammit, I am going to make it _right_.”

                “Well said, mum!” Codsworth perked up approvingly. “I, of course, will be behind you every step of the way!”

                “You can count on me too, love.” Preston pressed a soft kiss on her cheekbone, just beneath her eye.

                “Thank you, I…” Mari found herself annoyingly misty-eyed. “…Thank you.”

               She snuggled into Preston, and he stroked her back until the Ferris wheel reached the ground with a slight shudder, the jolt disturbing Shaun from his rest.

                “C’n we go home, mom?” the boy asked groggily. “‘m tired.”

                She could feel Preston and Codsworth turning to her, didn’t need to look at them to know that. Slowly, she reached out, ruffled his hair, the other hand wiping her eyes.

                “Yeah,” smiled Marisol. “Yeah, let’s go home.”


End file.
